


Pondering The Deeper Nuances of The Universe (ft. Captain Crunch)

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 3am talks about the universe, College, College AU, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, cheeky bruce, ponderings about life and religion and all those great things, tony also eats cereal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I just can’t tell. I can’t tell if I’m fine or if I’m empty, that I’m missing something because I just don’t know it exists. Or maybe some part of me does know it exists, but consciously I’m just too afraid to go after it. Or maybe there’s nothing at all. Maybe it’s just facts and figures and we live and die.” Tony pauses. “And I don’t know which answer I’m most afraid of.”</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>"Does it really matter?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Pondering The Deeper Nuances of The Universe (ft. Captain Crunch)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this picture: https://31.media.tumblr.com/35a1d3bfc48b08150c0d101cf6ee7a27/tumblr_n90lmo85zW1sarqg1o2_500.jpg

As predicted, the kitchen is blissfully vacant as Bruce steps in, and he pauses briefly to consider the light above the stove, but forgoes it in favor of the bright streams of moonlight that flow in through the sliding glass windows. Three am was always a favorite time of his. He moves at his own pace with deft hands reaching out to fill the electric kettle, clicking it on with one hand while grabbing his mug with the other. He turns the chipped ceramic mug over in his hands, smiling fondly at really no memory in particular, but it was one of those things that he’d just taken a liking to. Within minutes, he’s got hot water and a chamomile-lavender teabag, dunking the sachet to help his tea steep.

Bruce did enjoy the company of his housemates, all four of them, but sometimes it got to be a little much with the constant noise and squabbling and general rowdiness that was to be expected from college students. It was only in the middle of the night that he could steal away a few precious hours of silence, really let his thoughts coalesce and breathe in the space that they so craved. And at least he’d convinced his friends to not hold any more open-door parties this semester. They really couldn’t do with another noise violation any time soon. He holds the mug to his mouth and inhales, savoring the warmth and closing his eyes as he rests on the counter. His concentration is broken though when he hears soft footsteps padding in.

No other person is usually up around this hour, so Bruce knows who it is before even opening his eyes.

His friend walks briskly into the kitchen clad only in boxers and a tanktop, completely by-passing an unnoticed Bruce who grins into his tea, as he reaches into the cabinet for the box of cereal. Bruce lifts his foot and pokes Tony gently in the back. The box of cereal hits the ground as his friend yelps, bringing a hand to his mouth as he whips around, eyes wide with alert. The hand drops from his mouth as he frowns.

“Bruce,”

“Tony,” he grins.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Tony gnaws in thought on the inside of his mouth before picking up the box of what appears to be-

“Captain Crunch?” Bruce asks, amused. “Are you the one pissing Clint off by eating only the crunch berries?” Tony gives a shrug that is clearly feigning innocence.

“They’re the best part, what can I say?” He moves to grab a bowl and the milk, opening up the box to indeed pick through the non-crunch berry pieces, managing to fill the bowl a considerable amount. As he pours the milk and sticks it back in the fridge, Bruce reaches into the drawer underneath where he sits to pull a spoon out for Tony.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it before pulling himself up on the counter opposite Bruce and spooning a giant mouthful of crunch berries. True to Tony Stark fashion, he tries to speak through the food in his mouth, and all Bruce can do is smirk at him.

“Wanna try that again, buddy?” He takes a tentative sip of steaming tea.

Tony swallows, twitches his nose in the way Bruce knows means that he’s thinking of how to word something, and tries, “You weren’t raised any specific religion, were you?”

Bruce quirks a brow at that. “Not that I can recall, no- though,” he steadies himself with a breath, remembering the advice from his therapist all those years ago, all the words from his friends, “My father did occasionally mention Catholic ideologies, mostly about me going to Hell,” Bruce shrugs, ankles crossed as he taps his feet together.

“Sounds like a blast,” Tony snorts, but there’s a dark kind of humor in it, one that Bruce understands and appreciates in his own way. “I only ask because,” he takes another bite of cereal and chews thoughtfully, “I was reading about how people had all these meaningful relationships with God or Allah or… or just… something. Something out there in all,” Tony gestures wildly in the air, “this.”

Bruce ponders the statement. He himself had never really stopped to consider such an idea, forming a relationship with some kind of deity and discovering that part of himself. Was there anything even like that to discover? “I guess… it really just comes down to the individual, doesn’t it? We choose to believe in whatever brings us the greatest sense of security or comfort.”

“Yeah,” Tony points at Bruce with his spoon, and Bruce can’t help the ghost of a smile at his friend’s exuberance, “but, what if you don’t know what you’re missing out on because you’ve never experienced it?” He takes a long slurp from his bowl of milk. “Like, how can you miss, say, crunch berries, if you never knew what they tasted like?”

Bruce chews at the inside of his cheek, rolling the question over in his head. Tony did have a point. “Well, if there was something out there, bigger than all of us, wouldn’t we feel compelled to be drawn towards it? Like a moth towards a flame? The moth doesn’t understand the flame, has no concept of it other than the fact that it’s bright and attractive-”

“Like myself,” Tony can’t help but interject, and Bruce pulls an amused face.

“Ignoring that,” Bruce says before continuing, “Maybe, if we’re meant to find something, we’ll just stumble upon it on our own.”

Tony is quiet for a moment, breathing as he stares down at the ground, and Bruce notices the way the moonlight illuminates his friend, casting him in a gentle, pale glow. He feels a familiar tug at his heart, something that had started out as an inconvenience when he’d first met Tony, but now was something he was surprisingly grateful for, especially in their quieter moments like these.

“So the universe… just shoves us towards it?” Tony finally speaks.

“I wouldn’t say shove, but…” he nods his head left to right, as if rolling around the right words, “like leading a horse with a carrot. There’s still the chance to stray, but it doesn’t mean that the new path isn’t the wrong path- it’s just a different one.” Bruce finishes his statement with a sip of tea. “What’s with the sudden existential crisis?” He can’t help but ask.

Tony shrugs.

“Was just thinking about stuff,” He sets the bowl of cereal down next to him, hands clasped together in front of him as he stares down the ground. “Sometimes…” And Bruce stills his movements, treating the situation like approaching a skittish animal. It was rare that Tony showed any care to open up, and it was usually only by moonlight between the two housemates that he ever did. “I just can’t tell. I can’t tell if I’m fine or if I’m empty, that I’m missing something because I just don’t know it exists. Or maybe some part of me does know it exists, but consciously I’m just too afraid to go after it. Or maybe there’s nothing at all. Maybe it’s just facts and figures and we live and die.” Tony pauses. “And I don’t know which answer I’m most afraid of.”

“Does it really matter?”

Tony snaps his head up at that.

“What?”

“You can worry yourself sick about that shit, but at the end of the day, does it really matter? If you’re being a good person, I don’t really see why you should stress yourself out. Any questions you have will be answered eventually, and if not, well, then it probably wasn’t an important question to begin with. Just believe in what feels right.”

Bruce can feel his friend staring at him as he takes another long sip of his tea. He’d read his fair share of philosophy books, and he’d learned the hard way that the only way you were going to stay sane on this planet was if you just made your own ideology. Whether you scraped a belief together from the pages of the Bible or the Qur’an or the Vedas or, hell, the back of a Captain Crunch cereal box, Bruce figured that it really didn’t matter so long as you weren’t hurting anybody. He shuddered at a childhood memory and let it slip through his fingers, out into the vast night sky where it couldn’t touch anybody.

“You okay?” Tony asks, and Bruce smiles at the concern.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Did I help answer your question?” He offers. Tony nods slowly, like he’s finally putting the pieces together.

“Yeah… I think so. Yeah,” he says again, with more conviction this time. He picks up his cereal bowl and slides off the counter, moving towards what Bruce assumes to be the sink beside him, but his eyebrows raise in quiet surprise as Tony deposits the bowl and turns to him, running a soft hand down Bruce’s arm; warm and certain and tangible- nothing like the ideas they’d just been discussing. He can’t help but lean into the touch.

“And what do you think you’re doing-” Bruce starts to tease, but Tony reaches up and slides a hand behind Bruce’s neck, bringing him in for a gentle kiss, slow and sugary. They pull away after a moment, resting their foreheads against each other. Not what Bruce was expecting, but he’s not going to complain. “If I knew that talking philosophy was what got you, I’d have brought it up a long time ago.”

“Shut up, Bruce,” Tony smirks, “I just… I think I know what I want to believe in. I know what I’ve been believing in this whole time.”

“Well I’m not going to argue with that,” Bruce says, leaning in again to indulge his senses and capture Tony’s lips in a kiss. “Yeah,” he breathes out when they pull away again, smiling, “I guess I could get used to believing in this."

 


End file.
